


Sons and Fathers

by Spot_On60



Category: The A-Team (TV), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 02:25:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16031045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spot_On60/pseuds/Spot_On60
Summary: Would this day never end? Murdock was glum, Face was turbulent, BA was exhausted, and Hannibal proved once again why he’s their leader.





	Sons and Fathers

It was in the early hours of the morning yet it felt somewhere a clock had refused to surrender to the next day, a day that stretched indeterminately on into what was looking to the gentlemen involved more and more like oblivion. Hannibal, the leader of this group, wondered when their youngest member, his Lieutenant, would succumb to not only the length of the day, but also the inevitable energy sucking trauma it had brought.

Hannibal had spent the previous quarter hour with Murdock trying to assure him he couldn’t be blamed for being put in an unenviable, no-win situation pitting the Captain and Lieutenant against one another, and that the man responsible, now dead, in one last selfish act tore at the friendship between the two men whose very lives depended on their trust in one another. There was only so much to be done to soothe the fraught Captain by anyone other than the Lieutenant himself. They had already had it out earlier with unspoken, though not unspecified, expressions of contrition and forgiveness which for the sometimes emotionally precarious pilot couldn’t be entirely wiped away without a few additional placating utterances to indemnify him before he accepted the thorough absolution he craved, the absolution that would drive home the final nail permanently sealing away his feelings of guilt.

The two had stood together waiting on Stockwell’s call, nervously dreading either answer to Murdock’s enquiry into Face’s heritage. Murdock, still feeling he had failed his friend, desperately needed to show his support however things turned out, be it this man Bancroft was Face’s father or not.

Face’s entire being stemmed from his unknown origins. His bravado in cons rooted in an emotional lack of consequences. Essentially, there was no one to let down. It wasn’t only a lack of immediate familial ties, it was in the empty slate of the thing. Face, for all intents and purposes, seemingly appeared out of nowhere. That is until Brancroft showed up to rock his world with previously unknown details of his entry into the world.

Bancroft, a disgraced man, had pressed the go button on the final installment of his life. He had made a deal with the US government, turn over years of journals naming his accomplices in a life of cutting corners via the corruption of others and in return he would live out the remainder of his days, few as they were, a free man. But that was only a part of his intentions. The rest involved his children. The other caveats he stipulated were to bring to him a daughter, Ellen, whom he had abandoned along with her mother some twenty years prior, and for his security detail to be none other than the legendary A-Team.

Only by chance did Murdock stumble across one of the many secrets Bancroft held. This one helped to explain why it was so easy for the man to walk out on his wife and daughter - it turned out it was his second foray in skipping out on the responsibilities acquired via his libido. Some thirty-seven years prior he had walked out on his first wife as well; although, in her case he left before the baby was born. Her anger and disgust with the asshole cloaked the child she bore after Bancroft had cut and run in the same resentful sentiments. Another woman may have cherished her newborn son, a way of keeping a part of the man she loved and lost, but that wasn’t the case here. No, as soon as what she came to consider a parasitic reminder of her feelings of being used and tossed had been expelled from her body she wrote the boy off. She refused to nurse or have the baby in her room as her requisite four days of hospitalization, a common term in 1950, wore on. On the fourth day she was up with the sunrise and discharged herself, never to look back.

Wrapping up his irresponsible and thoughtless behavior in pretty packages of wistful remorse and gentle appeals for condonance didn’t mitigate the fact Bancroft was as self serving and manipulative in the end as he had ever been. Demanding Murdock not go to his friend with the very real possibility Bancroft could be Face’s father, appealing to Murdock’s good nature to allow the old man to share the circumstances with Face himself.

Then the old bastard up and died.

Telling Face what had occurred was easily one of the most difficult conversations Murdock had ever been involved in. Face unsurprisingly didn’t take it well, yet within minutes the two had come to an understanding. In vague snapshots, like scenes from a television show, that would have been the end of it, but neither man was that shallow. Murdock couldn’t help but continue to fret and Hannibal had only look out the window of the back door to see Face in the distance continue to stew.

With a still unsure Murdock left dozing to Mad Max on cable the former Colonel, still addressed respectfully as such by his band of men, made his way past BA snoring softly in a recliner, pausing to extinguish the reading lamp shining over the exhausted muscleman before stepping out the back door of the lovely seaside cottage Master Spook Stockwell, of all people, arranged for them after this last job, the job Hannibal would forever refer to in his head as “That Big Cluster Fuck.”

Face was standing on the sand beach, watching the Atlantic roll and churn it’s way closer with the incoming tide. The moon rose from ahead casting southerly shadows while revealing Face still wore the suede-collared, tweed jacket and jeans Hannibal had watched him so carefully choose early the previous morning. The late addition tie had been pulled loose below the unbuttoned shirt collar. When Face was showered, shaved and dressed he took a final look in the mirror noting the additional lines and furrows that had appeared in the reflection as though conjured in the overnight hours. Hannibal had stood in the doorway of the bathroom taking in Face taking in himself.

“Ready Face?”

Face’s trademark hum was accompanied by him utilizing both his hands to press then preen his hair back along each side. He snapped the collar of his shirt and unconsciously flattened a tie he wasn’t wearing as his eyes shifted to catch Hannibal’s in the mirror.

“Yeah. Let’s go,” he finally responded, confident “Face” was ready to meet the day.

Now on the darkened beach Hannibal stopped beside his Lieutenant, casting his sight out to sea. “Face, you know we’re all here for you kid. You do know that.”

“Yeah. I know,” he replied without much conviction.

“You also know Murdock is having a hard time forgiving himself?”

“What’s he need to forgive himself for?” Face spoke without emotion, distracted, rote, eyes cast to the sea. “Not like he was keeping anything from himself.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. You know as well as anyone his troubles are only partially an act. He could use a little more reassurance from you.”

“Yeah, okay Hannibal I’ll get right on that.”

“Face. I didn’t mean...”

“I feel bad, Hannibal.” His face echoed the turbulence of the encroaching tide. “Can’t I just feel bad?”

Hannibal’s arm slipped across his shoulders, warm and familiar. “Of course, Kid.” He absolutely had every right to feel badly. Face, for all his whining, complaints and general fussing rebounded from setbacks large and small like no other Hannibal could name; however, the ghosts released from their shackles over the past twenty-two hours were undeniably overwhelming and understandably difficult for Face to process.

“You know, you all had families,” Face began. “It’s something that always made me feel set apart from you guys. You all had...I don’t know...grounding, roots. And for one brief moment there I could have had that too.”

Hannibal watched as a tear lazily wound it’s way along Face’s cheek, seemingly dissolving into his jaw. He waited, mindfully balancing not wanting to crowd Face into revealing more than he was ready to, while at the same time encouraging him to crowd Hannibal’s physical space with a gentle snugging of his arm. Face half melted into the contact, making no effort to break away.

“There’s still your sister,” Hannibal offered low.

“Ellen said, ‘Let’s keep in touch,’ like we actually might. But I know perfectly well when she really thinks it through she’ll come to the conclusion it would be more than a little inconvenient to try to include Templeton Peck in her life.” He took in a deep breath surprised by the shudder it produced on the exhale. Hannibal didn’t miss it. He firmed his grip just a bit more.

“I feel like I lost two people today, people I didn’t have yesterday; they were a man and a woman who should have been very important to me. But nothing’s changed.”

Hannibal could feel the tension again amping up. This time he responded by fully engulfing Face to him with both arms, relieved the embrace was welcomed and not just another form of stress piled on already overloaded shoulders. Letting his own held breath out when arms found their way around him accompanying a quiet sigh.

Hannibal thought he could feel the disappointment manifest in the taut body he held, fully understanding it came from seeing a mooring in sight for something the Colonel was well aware nagged at Face, only to have it snatched away and once again setting him adrift. A feeling so acute it seemed to overflow from his Lieutenant’s body. Never one to shy away from physical contact with Face, Hannibal held him close.

“Hannibal?”

“Yeah, Kid.”

“Thank you.”

Hannibal’s eyes closed and he smiled as he pressed into Face’s forehead, which with his head rested to Hannibal’s shoulder was being nuzzled without thought into his neck. It was more intimate than was their norm, but Hannibal would let him have this.

“Face, I mean it. If there is anything any of us can do ... anything to help ease this for you, we’re here. All you have to do is ask.”

One of Face’s hands moved to the upper corner of Hannibal’s chest as his feet shuffled him in just that much closer before responding, “This is good. This is good right here.”

 

 

_It is not flesh and blood but the heart which makes us fathers and sons. ___

____

_~Johann Schiller_  
_1759 - 1805_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~¥¥¥¥~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**Thank you for reading!**

  
As always, if you enjoyed this let me know with a kudos and of course comments always make my day


End file.
